


The Last Corrino Emperor

by patorikkudozzu



Category: Dune Series - Frank Herbert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-25
Packaged: 2018-05-01 22:02:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5222582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patorikkudozzu/pseuds/patorikkudozzu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>House Corrino ruled the known universe for over 10,000 years. During the reign of Shaddam Corrino, the fourth of his name, that came to an end. This is from Shaddam's POV, covers the last couple chapters from Dune by Frank Herbert.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Corrino's Wrath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shaddam contemplates treachery, plots-within-plots, and how he should deal with these upstart Fremen. What I imagine Shaddam could have been doing in the scene before he arrives before the Baron outside Arakeen.

His Most Serene Imperial Majesty, the Padishah Emperor of the Known Universe, Shaddam IV of House Corrino, sits in a chamber of his Imperial flagship. He sits with legs crossed, cheek resting on hand, elbow propped up on the armrest of his seat.

He would never hold court without sitting upon the symbol of Imperial Authority, the Golden Lion Throne, but here Shaddam allows himself to sit and think in a "rustic setting."

Shaddam is acutely aware of the momentous events that he will very shortly have to address. Using a mental exercise he learned from Bene Gesserit training with Irulan, he forces those concerns to occupy a background part of his mind.

Keeping a relaxed composure and clear mind is his current priority. That is why he is allowing himself a moment to think and relax while his court and attendants wait apprehensively for his signal to start the procession.

He runs a finger along a seam in the simply cut but prohibitively expensive petrified Elacca wood chair. Before him is a desk of the same material. Shaddam doesn't much care for the light pink hue of the wood-turned-stone, or the hard and unyielding seat beneath him, but petrified Elacca wood is a rare and valuable commodity amongst the Houses Major. Even in an intimate and personal chamber such as this, a place for relaxation and contemplation while traveling on the Imperial flagship, the wealth of the emperor needs to be enough to inspire awe in the servants and guests that are allowed audience with the Imperial Personage. The prestige of his surroundings must outweigh personal preferences.

Shaddam glances at the floor of his study, to the smooth and pure-black marble. It has been treated in such a way that it would require nothing short of a lasgun to mar its surface. On top of this is an ancient carpet taken from Harmonthep, replete with the swirling and intricate designs of a Zensunni master weaver. It is covered with a few atoms layer thickness of a special preservative film, courtesy of IX, to protect it against the ravages of time.

The walls are paneled with a dozen varieties of hardwood acquired from Ecaz, his native Kaitain, and other tropical worlds in his domain. The colors range from a pale cream to a lustrous ebony, with light chestnut, deep mahogany, and various other shades ranging the spectrum in between. The panels have been arranged in such a way that the particolored effect is subtle rather than ostentatious.

Sitting upon a low table are various objet d'art. Lacquered figurines of fogwood. Scrimshaw with scenes of glorious hunts carefully etched upon the bones of exotic animals from half a galaxy away. Lustrous soostones, rumored to enhance mental powers.

Shaddam frowns as he recalls the time he sat and stared into those soostones, seeing if the rumors were in fact true. Likewise, he had attempted to see if he could shape raw fogwood with thought alone as the Ecazi claim.

The figurines he possess were carved by another.

Shaddam has an interest in the so-called powers of the mind; T-P, telepathy. He has seen little evidence that it exists, but the spice melange gives it's user a limited prescience if taken in large enough quantities, and certain other drugs like Sappho juice can increase calculating power amongst the human computers, the Mentats.

_Perhaps there lies in my universe a different substance that can enhance other powers of the mind._

Several glowglobes hang near the walls of the study, providing illumination in the gentle spectrum of light his eyes are used to seeing on Kaitain. One such glowglobe hangs suspended by it's suspensor field above his desk. Shaddam notes the figures in fine platinum filigree - laza tigers in full sprint.

A portrait of Shaddam the First, his namesake, hangs nearby. He is replete in the full elaborate imperial regalia, garb that Shaddam has little need for.

A carved figurine sits atop several documents on his desk. It is in the shape of a golden-maned lion - rampant, the carving stained with pigments absorbed by the fine-grained pilingitam wood.

Shaddam's noble mouth frowns at the thought of the source of this wood that is so prized by artists - Giedi Prime, fief of the Baron Vladimir Harkonnen.

_Such trouble that bloated fool has caused with his machinations. I may be satisfied at least that the tangled web the Baron weaved has finally been unwound. Mohiam and Hasimir have proven their usefulness yet again._

_I must be careful not to rely on the witches too much though,_ Shaddam admonished himself. _They have already shown that our interests do not necessarily coincide. The fact that my late wife did not provide me with a male heir has created complications for the succession._

Shaddam pushes away from the desk and gracefully rises from his chair. He walks to a full length mirror afixed to the wall. It is a somber piece. The setting is made of a dusky black metal inlaid with polished pieces of ebony, obsidian, and black pearls. Shaddam examines himself in the mirror, his noble features and fiery red hair. He marvels at how the Suk doctors have been able to hide the effects of his age; Shaddam looks closer to 30 than 70. Eventually he may have to increase the amount of spice in his diet to increase his longevity as his father had done before him. He would need covering lenses in such a case, lest he look like the common gutter trash of Dune.

Thinking on the subject of Suk doctors, Shaddam recalls how the Baron was able to twist the Red Duke's own Suk doctor into breaking his Imperial conditioning. When Shaddam learned this, it caused him to reevaluate the amount of access that such doctors were given to the Imperial Person. Regardless, this would be useful knowledge in the future; the fact that with the right inducements a supposedly incorruptible man could be made into a tool. If the secrecy of such a fact could be protected, this would be a valuable asset.

_Yet another reason to dispose of the Baron. Do I need another?_

In the mirror, Shaddam examines his grey Sardaukar uniform for imperfections, finding none. It's trimmed in gold and silver, the cloth cut close to accentuate his lithe and elegant form. While he had in previous years worn clothing featuring the imperial white and gold, Shaddam has recently taken to wearing the trappings of House Sardaukar over the colors of House Corrino. He glances at a nearby stand which holds his black Burseg's helm, modified with the imperial crest in gold on the crown.

The lesser minds of sycophants and graspers at court may see these accoutrements and say "The emperor has a fondness for military dress." Those that can see beyond the superficial might realize that the Emperor has not chosen his dress out of preference or personal taste, but to send a message.

Shaddam holds the power of life and death over all his subjects. This is not because of his imperial titles, but because of the greatest of his servants: House Sardaukar.

The scum of the universe are brought to the ancient home of House Corrino, that atomics-devastated wasteland Salusa Secundus. A world so unlike the Imperial capital of Kaitain, Salusa Secundus is ostensibly a prison planet. In reality it serves as the secret furnace in which the Sardaukar are forged. There, in ignominy and the vilest of conditions, the refuse of the universe are burned away like chaff before a flame, leaving only those with the strength, cunning, and the will to survive. They are indoctrinated into his Imperial Cult, worshipping the Royal Person, willing to sacrifice their lives to his slightest whim.

_Why shouldn't they?_

The prosperity of his legionnaires flows forth from the Golden Lion Throne. Shaddam rewards well those that are able to rise through the ranks. A man achieving the rank of Burseg lives in luxury comparable to the nobility of the Houses Major. Even the middling ranked Caids and lesser Bashars live as well as the Houses Minor at least. More than that, all of the members of his Sardaukar legions have something they hold infinitely more valuable than mere lucre: pride. From the highest Burseg to the lowest trooper, all of them believe that by living through the trials of Salusa Secundus they are proved superior. This is the true value that his men receive from their emperor: Shaddam has lifted them up from the muck to become the most premier military force in the universe.

Still, the staggering cost of supporting such a high quality of life for his officers as well as the size of his legions means that keeping them under arms is incredibly expensive.

_The price of these relatively opulent surroundings are as dross in comparison._

In the past 30 years of his reign, Shaddam had to reduce costs by cutting the investment in training his troops, allowing the qualifications to drop while increasing troop levels. Shaddam believes this to be a reasonable sacrifice, as the Sardaukar have always been so far and above what the Houses Major could produce; a small drop in quality wouldn't make much of a difference.

If the Landsraad knew the cost Shaddam yearly paid to maintain his legions, they would be at once both astounded and horrified: astounded at the vast scope of Imperial wealth that it implied, but horrified at the implications that he would continue supporting such an expensive force. Unless they thought Shaddam was a fool, they would know that it was useless to keep legions of men under arms and have no use for them. If the nobility truly believed that all of their troopers combined served as an equal counterbalance to the Sardaukar, they were sadly mistaken.

_If those petty squabblers in the Landsraad knew the extent of his ambitions, they would rise in rebellion in an instant. That is, i_ _f they could be torn from snapping at each other's throats long enough to notice._

Shaddam knows that such an open conflagration is undesirable. While he is convinced that his fanatic legions could be victorious against all the forces his enemies could muster, it would leave his empire devastated and drained of resources. However, after the conniving of the Baron and the Duke, he almost considered it worth the cost just to wipe out his opposition and dissolve the Landsraad, but the blasted Guild still remain an issue.

The Guild navigators have a phrase they frequently repeat when sent to court: "The spice must flow." Shaddam ofttimes finds his patience tested in such instances. Second or third rate steersman would be sent to negotiate, with their bland clothes and passive faces, their bodies stinking and saturated with the spice-melange. The Guild would be absolutely necessary if open warfare broke out, as much to prevent the transport of his enemies as to facilitate the movement of his legions. However, the Guild would never support the instability caused by such an event.

Shaddam removes his hand from the smooth surface of the helm and closes it in a tight fist. He notes that his immaculately manicured fingernails bite into his palm as he thinks on the Guild:

_The Guild is a parasite. It sucks just enough blood to not kill it's host. The Imperial coffers could not afford the "hazard rates" they would charge for the movement of military forces if I sought to assert my rights. That expedition to Arrakis would have dug deep into my reserves had I been the one to pay for it, and that had been just a single planetary invasion. There doesn't exist the wealth necessary to afford the thousands of such landings that would have to be made if the Houses Major rose in rebellion. Is there truly no way to convince the Guild to support me in dissolving the Landsraad?_

Shaddam knows the long-term plan that he and his forebears have been following for millenia: isolate and destroy those houses that might threaten Imperial military supremacy, use pressure from the vassals and allies in the Landsraad as well as imperial economic power in CHOAM to drive other major houses into pauperage or vassalage. Over time, this would lead to the already skewed balance of power between House Corrino and the Landsraad to shift even farther towards the Imperial side. Eventually, the Landsraad would be so weak and so in-hoc to House Corrino that they would willingly hand over all power to the rightful bearer of it.

_The faufreluches system could then be abolished and replaced with my direct imperial rule._

Shaddam is a patient and confident man. He prides himself on his control. However, if there is one trait of his that might be called a failing, it has to be his desire for power. Not power for his descendants, but personal power. Shaddam doesn't consider this a failing though. It motivates him. It pushes him to strive for greatness.

_I don't wish for my house to dissolve the Landsraad a millenia hence. I have the power here in my lifetime! If not for the Guild, I could have the universe under my control in fact as well as name!_

Shaddam lets out a breath and opens his fist. He calmly returns to his chair and sits. Reaching out for the lion carving, he moves it aside and picks up the topmost page. He runs his eyes over it, translating the Sardaukar code-language as he reads it again. It is this document that had required Shaddam to send a runner to rouse his truthsayer. It became the last bit of evidence that allowed Shaddam to see what that fat fox the Baron had truly been planning.

Shaddam returns the document to the pile. Keeping his face passive, he thinks: _The Baron thought to use ME as a catspaw! I knew he would have to be dealt with after the way he turned the death of the Duke into a shameful farce._

Opening a drawer, he withdraws a piece of torn fabric: a red hawk on a black field. He strokes the bit of cloth with his thumb as he ponders the circumstances of the death of Duke Leto Atreides:

_I raged when I heard how the Baron countermanded my orders. I had originally hoped to wed Leto to Irulan, and thus bind the Atreides to me, but he had since become too dangerous. His soldiers were becoming effective enough to threaten my own, and the great houses saw him as the champion of their rights. Still, if he had to die, I commanded that he be shown respect and it be done cleanly. From the report of my soldier at the scene, the Red Duke had been drugged, bound, and made mock of before the end. Not being given the honor of a clean death, he had to resort to poisoning himself._

Shaddam returns the fabric to the drawer, stands and leans over the table, resting both hands upon it.

_When did they agree to this plot of theirs?_

Mohiam, standing in this room not an hour ago, had said that the Red Duke's concubine believed the feud was real, but that the girl was a lovestruck fool and so was likely blind to her master's true motivations.

_I am inclined to believe that this feud between the Duke and the Baron has been fabricated from the very beginning. They were using the guise of an ancient rivalry to mask their cooperation. Hasimir said that the fat fox was smug in his victory when they met on Giedi Prime, which alone doesn't necessarily prove things either way. However, on the occasion of the Na-Baron's coming of age, the Baron had suggested to Hasimir that he could turn Dune into a prison planet like my Salusa Secundus. The Baron acted as if he didn't understand the true implications of what that meant. I might have considered this, but the Baron is being advised by that Mentat Master of Assassins, Thufir Hawat. Hawat, a man of both a devious and calculating mind, might have already discovered the source of my Sardaukar's prowess. I can only assume that the Baron now understands that as well. Something else to be aware of is the fact that my men tell me that Hawat is not present with the Baron. For the secret of Salusa Secundus to remain a secret, Hawat and the Baron must both be dealt with._

_Already we can see that this Dune planet has the harsh conditions necessary to create truly superb soldiers. My Sardaukar launched a pogrom to wipeout that temerous race in the desert, but the reports coming back show that they paid a terrible toll. The knowledge of how to fight in their own country, as well as the fact that my men have never fought their equal before, resulted in these umma having the advantage. The fact, however, is that these umma are close in skill to my Sardaukar, just as Hasimir, Mohiam, and my spies indicate._

_So then, the plan had been that the Atreides would sacrifice some of their men, making it look as if they were defeated, when they were really taking refuge amongst the savages. The wily Baron then truly betrays the Red Duke, seizing the opportunity to save these superb people for his own use!_

_The bit of evidence that made me decide that this Harkonnen-Atreides plot was real was the result of that raid. The girl-child captive filled in the gaps: the boy Paul and his mother had survived, and she is his sister. They must have turned the Harkonnen's plan against them, harnessing these desert folk and using them to reduce the Harkonnens to such a degree that only this hovel Arakeen is left to them._

_This Mahdi has brought spice production to a standstill. That is what allowed me to move so many of my men to this hellhole; the Guild has lowered transportation costs to a pittance of what they once were. They lose vast amounts of potential income with so many houses of the Landsraad represented up there in space. They, who unlike any other organization simply cannot exist without the spice-melange, must see this problem solved._

_The results of that raid to gather prisoners was distressing, but we have the defensible position behind this 'shield-wall,' the numbers, a noble hostage, and superior fire power. Now with my legions mustered, these savages will be unable to resist my power. They shall learn that their existence is a gift that flows from the Golden Lion Throne. The hand opened in beneficence can be closed just as easily._

Shaddam withdraws a minuscule communications device from a pocket in his Sardaukar tunic. Applying a small amount of pressure with his thumbnail to activate it, he places it in his ear.

"Mirza."

A Noukker of the blood, officer of his personal bodyguard, answers. "Yes, Your Majesty?"

"Prepare my guard. I shall enter the hutment shortly."

"At once, Your Majesty."

_Now I shall do what I sought long ago: this planet will be purged. These willful fanatics shall be eradicated: every man, woman, and child shall pay the price of disloyalty. This planet shall be held as a direct Imperial fief. The Landsraad cannot deny that allowing the Harkonnens to govern here has been a disaster for CHOAM profits, thus they also cannot deny my will when I take this planet for mine own. They will be satisfied when I allow their raiders to enrich themselves on plunder. Once I repopulate this world with convicts and prisoners, it will become a second Salusa Secundus. I will be one step closer to bringing those fools in the Landsraad to heel. Even the Guild cannot deny me in this. With the spice under my control, they will learn to kneel as well._

Shaddam walks to the mirror. He takes the Burseg helm in hand. Thinking on the Baron, the Guild, the Red Duke, the Landsraad, the Fremen, and all those others that resist his Imperial Will, Shaddam quietly quotes from the OC Bible: "'Beware the seeds you sow and the crops you reap. Do not curse God for the punishment you inflict upon yourself.'"

Placing the ebon helm upon his head, Shaddam looks into the mirror, his eyes narrowing.

"You will all see the price paid for arousing a Corrino's wrath."

Turning to the door, he calls out "Page!"

The door opens and one of the pages, this one the eldest son of a cadet branch of House Corrino, steps in, bowing low.

"How may this one serve, Your Majesty?"

"Your emperor is ready. Prepare my court."

Padishah Emperor Shaddam Corrino IV stands tall as he strides toward the hutment where the Baron awaits, his court in tow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	2. Imperial Audience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Baron meets His Imperial Majesty outside Arakeen, the last Harkonnen holding on Arrakis.

Noukkers of the blood, pages selected from cadet branches as well as attendants promoted from allied Houses lead the way to herald the arrival of His Imperial Majesty.

"Make way! Make way for the Royal Person!"

Shaddam strides purposefully forth into the wide hutment, a temporary Selamlik, formed from a multitude of interlocking fanmetal plates. He sees peripherally a bloated figure standing alone and without attendants, knowing it to be the Baron. Shaddam smiles inwardly at the discomfort he undoubtedly feels.

_That fat fox stands alone, with only the conventions to shield him. He will learn how much protection that truly offers._

Shaddam stops at the foot of a raised dais. He positions himself so that he looks both regal and detached from the proceedings, looking at a point on the wall, not deigning to notice anyone in the room. Shaddam feels a sense of schadenfreude as he considers the situation the Baron now finds himself in.

_Let us see now what he has to say for himself. This plot will be exposed now before the light of scrutiny._

Glancing imperceptibly towards his retinue, he sees two fat grey blobs, one tall, the other short. The two steersman sent by the guild.

_Let them watch and learn the price paid for earning my displeasure._

His pages bring forth the symbol of his power, a now unique artifact, since Shaddam the First had long before mined Hagal of all it's riches: The Golden Lion Throne. Using suspensor field lifts, pages place the throne upon the raised dais. It is carved from a single massive piece of Hagal quartz. There are lines of color suspended in it's structure, streams of green and golden fire frozen in suspended animation. Shaddam seats himself upon it, back erect and head high.

Shaddam still does not deign to notice anyone in the room in particular. Mohiam detaches herself from his retinue and positions herself behind the throne, as is her right as the Imperial Truthsayer. Shaddam notices the discomfiture that Mohiam brings to the Baron. He understands why.

_Mohiam will be able to see through his mendacity to the truth beneath._

Finally Shaddam turns his eyes fully upon the Baron. His grotesquely fat body is swaddled in cloth that is the orange and blue of his house, with the Harkonnen griffin upon the breast. Upon this he wears a harness, fitted with suspensor globes, used to support his weight. The Emperor notes that his feet float a few inches above the floor.

The Baron is clearly uncomfortable at being so exposed; he is particularly interested in Mohiam, as he fearfully glances at her witch-like features.

"My dear Baron." Shaddam pitches his voice in such a way as to both welcome the Baron and express disdain. From the look upon that fat fox's face, he understands the message the emperor wished to convey.

The Baron bends himself low in a bow, then takes a few peculiarly dainty steps to the proscribed distance from the throne. "I came at your summons, Majesty." The Baron's voice is a deep basso rumble.

Mohiam cackles in laughter at this, causing the Baron to bristle. Shaddam knows the control the witches have, seeing this not as an uncontrolled outburst but as the calculated attempt it is to further discomfort the Baron. Shaddam gently reprimands her, though he lets a smile play upon his lips to show those present that he approves of Mohiam's mocking.

_Now to see how hw will explain the disappearance of Hawat._

"First, you will tell me where you've sent your minion, Thufir Hawat." Shaddam said this in a casual and yet commanding tone that demanded a sufficient response.

The Baron's beady black eyes dart to the sides of the hutment at his Sardaukar guards drawn up there.

_Yes. That's right Baron. I have my soldier-fanatics here with me, and you have nothing._

"Well?" Shaddam allowed a note of impatience to enter his voice at that.

"He has been gone these five days, majesty." At this the Baron shoots a glance at the guild agents. "He was to land at a smuggler base and attempt infiltrating the camp of the Fremen fanatic, this Muad'Dib."

"Incredible!" The emperor had already assumed that the Baron would attempt to hide Hawat away out of Imperial reach, but he was amazed that he would make such a lie before him, when Mohiam could see through the masking language to the true intentions beneath.

Mohiam taps Shaddam on the shoulder and leans in close. "He tells the truth, sire. Also, it appears that he is not much concerned for Hawat." This surprises Shaddam, though he keeps it from showing on his features.

_The Baron must truly be desperate if he is using such a valuable piece as Hawat to try to infiltrate the desert-folk. Also, if Hawat truly does know the secret of Salusa Secundus, why would the Baron be unconcerned with his safety?_

Shaddam decides to test further. He nods, then says: "Five days, Baron. Tell me, why aren't you worried about his absence?"

The Baron's voice rises in pitch as he exclaims "But I am worried, your Majesty!"

Shaddam merely stares at this, as he knows from Mohiam that this is a lie. Another cackle from her is evidence enough of that. The Baron, evidently realizing his mistake, amends his outburst, explaining how Hawat would die without an additive secretly placed in his food. Mohiam confirms that the Baron speaks the truth in this.

_That explains why he is unconcerned. The Baron need not fear Hawat's capture and interrogation, as he'll soon be dead. As long as Hawat dies, the secret of my prison planet will be secured. Still, there remain some Harkonnen rats that are unaccounted for._

"How clever of you, Baron, and where are your nephews, Rabban and the young Feyd-Rautha?"

"The storm comes, Majesty. I sent them to inspect our perimeter lest the Fremen attack under cover of the sand."

Shaddam scoffs internally at the notion that his Sardaukar need a perimeter to defend themselves with, let alone that it needs to be inspected by Harkonnen scum. "Perimeter." He lets his disdain show in the word. "The storm won't be much here in the basin, and that Fremen rabble won't attack while I'm here with five legions of Sardaukar."

"Surely not, Majesty." The Baron sounds as if he seeks to placate Imperial anger. "But error on the side of caution cannot be censured."

Shaddam is perturbed that the fat fox would suggest that he should be cautious. He decides to push a little harder on the Baron. "Ahhhh, censure. Then I'm not to speak of how much time this Arrakis nonsense has taken from me? Nor the CHOAM company profits pouring down this rat-hole?" The emperor allows a small amount of his anger to show in his words, letting his voice rise as he continues. "Nor the court functions and affairs of state I've had to delay - even cancel - because of this stupid affair?"

The Baron casts his eyes downward. Shaddam can see sweat beading on his jowels, forehead, and nose. Shaddam returns his face to one of calm and haughty detachment. "Have you taken hostages?"

The Baron shows annoyance in his voice as he describes the fanaticism of the Fremen to explain why he had taken no hostages.

Letting the full weight of his contempt show, Shaddam responds simply. "So?"

The Baron, perhaps not knowing how to respond without further showing his ineptitude, remains silent, again darting his eyes left and right.

Finally, when Shaddam thinks that the Baron had stewed with that long enough, he speaks. "Perhaps you've never sought the right kind of hostages."

The Baron quizzically looks up. This cheers Shaddam, as he knows the moment to introduce his captive is close at hand.

Shaddam decides to question the Baron further and see if he truly does not know who leads the Fremen. Keeping his voice even, Shaddam asks "Do you have any idea who this Muad'Dib could be?"

The Baron waves this off, claiming that the Mahdi is merely a random guttersnipe. Shaddam glances at Mohiam, who indicates with a placid face that the Baron has told the truth. Again, this was not what Shaddam anticipated.

_Is the Baron truly so stupid as to not know?_

He lets his displeasure show as he turns back to the Baron. "And you have no other knowledge of this Muad'Dib?"

"A madman. But all Fremen are a little mad." He waves a pudgy hand dismissively.

Shaddam presses further to see what exactly the Baron does know. "Mad?"

"His people scream his name as they leap into battle. The women throw their babies at us and hurl themselves onto our knives to open a wedge for their men to attack us. They have no..." The Baron struggles for the right word "...no...decency!"

Shaddam knows that the Baron is simply overstating the madness of the Fremen to cover for his own troopers dismal showing against them. He lets his derision show by muttering just loud enough for the Baron to hear "As bad as that..." Shaddam quickly raises his voice and questions the Baron again, this time on the southern polar regions, changing the subject to put him off his guard.

The Baron, clearly perplexed at what this has to do with anything, hesitantly answers: "But...well, you know, your Majesty, that the entire region is uninhabitable, open to wind and worm. There's not even any spice in those latitudes."

Shaddam asks a question to which he already knows the answer. "You've had no reports from spice lighters that patches of greenery appear there?"

The Baron, having recovered from the change in subject, returns to his dismissive attitude toward all things Fremen. "There've always been such reports. Some were investigated - long ago. A few plants were seen. Many 'thopters were lost. Much too costly, Your Majesty. It's a place where men cannot survive for long."

Shaddam decides that now is the moment to reveal his captive.

_If the Baron truly is ignorant in this, then let him learn just how inept a job he has done in eliminating the Atreides._

Shaddam speaks one syllable, "So" and with that he snaps his fingers, signaling to his guards to bring the girl-child forward.

Mohiam trembles and makes a warding sign with her hand. This gives Shaddam pause.

_Why is she perturbed by a mere child? What could cause a Bene-Gesserit witch to quake so?_

Shaddam clears his throat to speak, but is interrupted by a small and gently lisping voice.

"So here he is."

It was the girl-child that spoke. She stares at the Baron with her blue-within-blue eyes as she continues speaking, mocking him, the words sounding incongruous from one so young. Shaddam enjoys the way this child made the Baron start at her strange words. He introduces her.

"My dear Baron, become acquainted with the sister of Muad'Dib."

"The sist..." the Baron lifts his beady eyes up to the Emperor's, a look of confusion evident on his face. "I do not understand."

"I, too, sometimes err on the side of caution" Shaddam mockingly says, "It has been reported to me that your uninhabited south polar regions exhibit evidence of human activity."

The Baron becomes more agitated by these revelations, as he says: "But that's impossible! The worms...there's sand clear to the..."

Shaddam interrupts his sputtering: "These people seem able to avoid the worms." The Baron apparently didn't notice this comment, as he is absorbed with this strange child, currently sitting on the dais and kicking her feet. So far, the Baron has revealed that he understands little about these people and their so-called Muad'Dib.

_Perhaps he truly is ignorant in this case, not knowing that it was the surviving Atreides that mobilized the Fremen to attack him. However, the evidence still points to the fact that this fat fox has been planning to use these people to copy my success with Salusa Secundus. He may have failed in this treason due to his ineptitude, but the intent was still there._

Shaddam decides to reveal the result of the raid into the southern polar region and see how the Baron reacts. Shaddam breaks the Baron out of his reverie as he continues to speak. "Unfortunately, I only sent in five troop carriers with a light attack force to pick up prisoners for questioning. We barely got away with three prisoners and one carrier. Mind you, Baron, my Sardaukar were almost overwhelmed by a force composed mostly of women, children, and old men. This child here was in command of one of the attacking groups."

"You see, Your Majesty! You see how they are!" The Baron's voice is strained at this.

The girl speaks up again, with her controlled speech and words sounding strange coming from a child. "I allowed myself to be captured. I did not want to face my brother and have to tell him that his son had been killed."

Shaddam, not allowing the girl to interrupt his dialogue with the Baron, speaks. "Only a handful of our men got away." At this he leans forward and stresses his next words. "Got away! You hear that?"

The girl, apparently intent on commenting every time someone speaks, again interjects: "We'd have had them too, except for the flames."

Shaddam decides to clarify that to the Baron. "My Sardaukar used the attitudinal jets on their carrier as flame-throwers. A move of desperation, and the only thing that got them away with their three prisoners."

Shaddam's eyes bore into the Baron's, making sure that he does not miss the implications of what he has to say next. "Mark that, my dear Baron: Sardaukar forced to retreat in confusion from women and children and old men!"

With a rasping voice, his brow furrowed, the Baron says: "We must attack in force. We must destroy every last vestige of-"

"Silence!" Shaddam roars as he sits up on his throne, losing his composure in the face of the Baron's mendacity. The Baron seems to spasm, his expression fearful in the face of Shaddam's rage.

_This fat fox thinks that I do not know all of this is the result of HIS machinations!_

"Do not abuse my intelligence any longer. You stand there in your foolish innocence and-" Mohiam leans in, trying to get his attention. Shaddam waves her away, continuing. "You say you don't know about the activity we found, nor the fighting qualities of these superb people!"

Shaddam is close to having the Baron executed on the spot, before the court. He half lifts himself out of the throne as he says: "What do you take me for, Baron?"

The Baron takes a couple of those peculiar floating steps backwards, stricken with panic.

Shaddam tempers his rage, bringing it down from a fiery roar to a quiet anger. Lowering himself back down to the throne, Shaddam continues, his displeasure apparent. "And this fake dispute with Duke Leto. How beautifully you maneuvered it."

Trying to plead with him, the Baron says "Majesty, what are you-" Shaddam's rage flares as he again roars for the Baron to be silent.

At this, Mohiam places a hand on Shaddam's shoulder to get his attention and leans in. "Majesty, he does not lie in this. He is confused and frightened, but he is ignorant about the plot."

Shaddam calms himself at this news. He looks at the Baron quizzically, wondering how it is that he doesn't know.

_Is he truly ignorant in this? Is it possible that the feud was real, that there was no hidden plot?_

_Have I been wrong in my accusations?_

While Shaddam thinks this, the girl leans forward and stares intently at the Baron as she addresses the emperor. "Make him afraid some more, Shaddam. I shouldn't enjoy this, but I find the pleasure impossible to suppress."

"Quiet, child." Shaddam gently chastises the girl as he stares inquiringly at the Baron. He reaches forward and places a hand on the child's small hooded head. "Is it possible, Baron? Could you be as simpleminded as my Truthsayer suggests? Do you not recognize this child, daughter of your ally, Duke Leto?"

The girl interjects yet again."My father was never his ally. My father is dead and this old Harkonnen beast has never seen me before."

Shaddam knows he should be upset by the presumptuousness of this child, but this whole situation is so surreal, unlike what he imagined it to be. He thought that the Baron would be trapped, like a butterfly with it's wings pinned, unable to escape the weight of the evidence against him. However, Mohiam had confirmed that the Baron's only crimes were ineptitude and idiocy. This girl-child, whom Shaddam had brought in merely to confirm the Baron's mendacity, had instead served to confirm the Baron's ignorance. More than that, this girl had knowledge beyond her years, and she speaks to the Royal Person as if he were a young stripling. Her blue-within-blue eyes don't hold the innocence of a child, but the wisdom of a woman many years her senior.

It isn't Shaddam alone who sees the strangeness in the girl either: Mohiam is highly perturbed by her, and other members of his court cast wary glances toward the child.

Pulling himself out of his reverie, Shaddam sees that the Baron was left dumbfounded by the girl's response. Still, the Baron stands in silence as he stares at the girl, uncomprehending what had just been said. Finally he looks up at Shaddam and says "Who?"

"I am Alia, daughter of Duke Leto and the Lady Jessica, sister of Duke Paul-Muad'Dib." With this, the girl pushes herself off the dais. She locks eyes with the Baron. "My brother has promised to have your head atop his battle standard and I think he shall."

Shaddam feels that this girl, this Alia, has become the focal point of the entire audience chamber. He halfheartedly tries to command the girl to be silent with "Be hush, child," but even to him the words come off as weak and ineffectual. It's as if this girl-child has usurped his position at the center of these proceedings and now has the initiative.

Shaddam studies the Baron to see his reaction to this turn of events, seeing that he is even more confused than before.

The girl responds insolently to Shaddam's command. "I do not take the emperor's orders." With that, she turns her gaze toward Mohiam. "She knows."

Shaddam, wondering what connection Mohiam has to this child, turns to his his Truthsayer and asks: "What does she mean?"

"That child is an abomination! Her mother deserves a punishment greater than anything in history. Death! It cannot come too quickly for that child or for the one who spawned her!"

Mohiam's voice is shrill, and she is clearly disturbed. She raises a knobby finger and points it accusing toward the child. "Get out of my mind!"

This last comment from Mohiam piques Shaddam's interest. He whispers, half to himself: "T-P?" Shaddam quickly turns his attention back to the child, to her blue-within-blue eyes and strange bearing. "By the Great Mother!"

_Could it be that this child has the gift that I have searched for?_

The thought at once excites and horrifies him. The ability to read and perhaps influence the minds of his enemies would be a potent tool, but the fact that his own thoughts and plots could be known and revealed by another makes this girl very dangerous indeed.

Mohiam interrupts these thoughts. "You don't understand, Majesty. Not telepathy. She's in my mind. She's like the ones before me, the ones who gave me their memories. She stands in my mind! She cannot be there, but she is!" Mohiam's voice rises to a frantic shrillness at the end.

_What is she talking about? Is she mad? Is she under some sort of mental attack?_

"What others? What is this nonsense?"

Mohiam lowers her hand and composes her features. "I've said too much, but the fact remains that this child that is not a child must be destroyed. Long were we warned against such a one and how to prevent such a birth, but one of our own has betrayed us."

"You babble, old woman." Somehow the girl-child managed to make this sound like one chastising a child while also making reference to Mohiam's advanced age. "You don't know how it was, yet you rattle on like a purblind fool." At this, she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, concentration evident on her face.

Seemingly in response, Mohiam takes a faltering step back, letting out a groan as if she were in pain.

The girl opens her eyes to stare at Mohiam again. "That is how it was. A cosmic accident...and you played your part in it."

Mohiam holds out her gnarled hands, as if she were warding off an attack from the child.

Shaddam looks to Mohiam and asks: "What is going on here?" He turns to address the girl. "Child, can you truly project your thoughts into the mind of another?"

She flicks her eyes over to Shaddam, her face placid as she answers him. "That's not how it is at all. Unless I'm born as you, I cannot think as you."

Mohiam struggles to keep herself on her feet as she grips the throne. "Kill her. Kill her!" She mutters, her voice thick and breathing heavy, as though she were exhausted.

Shaddam, exasperated by these events that he is clearly ignorant of, calls for Mohiam to be silent.

_It's time to see what value this hostage has. Perhaps her powers can aid me in this._

He turns to the girl and addresses her, bringing a tone of authority back into his voice. "Child, can you communicate with your brother?"

"My brother knows I'm here."

"Can you tell him to surrender at the price of your life?"

Alia turns fully to face him, an innocent smile characteristic of a girl her age upon her face. Shaddam recognizes this for the facade that it is. "I shall not do that."

Shaddam feels his rage rising again.

 _This child-that-is-not-a-child thinks to refuse me? Whatever powers she may have will not save her from my wrath_.

Shaddam holds very still as he stares into Alia's eyes, his composure serving to accentuate the quiet rage bubbling beneath the surface.

The Baron takes a few hesitant steps forward and breaks the silence, seeking to separate himself from this child that has so aroused the Imperial anger. "Majesty, I know nothing of-"

"Interrupt me once more, Baron, and you will lose the powers of interruption...forever." Shaddam cuts off the Baron, his voice even, the tone at odds with the intent of his words.

Shaddam narrows his eyes as he address Alia. "You will not, eh? Can you read in my mind what I'll do if you disobey me?"

The girl speaks again in her insolent tone, as if she weren't the target of Corrino anger. "I've already said I can't read minds, but one doesn't need telepathy to read your intentions."

Shaddam is a little taken aback at this child's continuous defiance in the face of his anger. He stops trying to intimidate her with his calm composure, seeing that it has not effected her as it did the Baron. Frowning, he says: "Child, your cause is hopeless. I have but to rally my forces and reduce this planet to-"

"It's not that simple." The girl interrupts him, and then turns to regard the Guild Steersman. "Ask them."

Shaddam yet again finds himself riled by this child's insolence.

_Does she think the Guild can do anything to stop my hand in this moment?_

"It is not wise to go against my desires. You should not deny me the least thing."

"My brother comes now. Even an Emperor may tremble before Muad'Dib, for he has the strength of righteousness and heaven smiles upon him."

This statement from the girl is the last insult he can tolerate.

_She thinks to threaten ME? Here? With my power in full display?_

Shaddam loses his composure as he quickly rises off the throne and to his feet. "This play has gone on long enough. I will take your brother and this planet and grind them to-"

Suddenly, a great rumble is heard as the entire Selamlik shakes, sand streaming in from a fracture in the fanmetal wall. Shaddam feels a familiar pressure on his skin.

_The outer shield has been activated._

Alia, unperturbed by this sudden upset, addresses the entire room: "I told you. My brother comes."

Shaddam presses a hand to his ear to better listen to the reports coming in from his men. An officer speaks over the receiver, shouting to be heard over the sudden roar of the storm. "Your Majesty! The Shield Wall has been bombed! It may have been atomic! Part of it has collapsed, and the storm is reaching us here in the basin! The men have activated the area shielding as well as their personal shields! Reports are coming in that the men can see shapes advancing through the debris and sand!"

_Atomics! That Atreides pup has used his house atomics to blast a hole in the Shield Wall!_

Shaddam realizes with a sinking feeling how deftly the Atreides boy has outmaneuvered him. The storm will short out all shielding with it's static interference, leaving his men who are trained in shield-fighting vulnerable. Undoubtedly the Fremen will be attacking in force soon. Shaddam feels his stomach drop as he recognizes how exposed his position now is.

_There's only one option: retreat. The troopers of the Great House together with my Sardaukar will reduce them from the air, then perform a coordinated attack on these savages. They will yet know the price for earning my ire._

Sardaukar, bodyguards, diplomats, and the other members of his court run about in a confused mayhem. Shaddam raises his voice to be heard over the tumult. "We will fall back into space and reform!" Shaddam turns to address the Baron. "Baron, my apologies. These madmen are attacking under cover of the storm. We will show them an Emperor's wrath, then."

Shaddam turns his attention to the Fremen girl.

_Your brother has disregarded your life by brazenly attempting to engage us here. Powers or not, he shall see the price paid for this attack._

Shaddam points to her. "Give her body to the storm."

Alia stumbles backwards, screaming in a high pitched voice: "Let the storm have what it can take!"

The Baron catches and holds her in his flabby arms. He shouts out to Shaddam: "I have her, Majesty! Shall I dispatch her now-eeeeeeeeeeeh!"

The Baron howls as he tosses the girl away from him, staring at his palm. From the floor, Alia says in a voice sounding almost remorseful: "I'm sorry, Grandfather. You've met the Atreides gom jabbar."

"You...you..." Shaddam sees the Baron flop his side to a position floating a few inches above the ground, his head and tongue lolling grotesquely in death.

_The Baron was right! They're mad! The whole lot of them!_

Shaddam can't conceal his disgust and rage as he growls out: "These people are insane." He raises his head and addresses the entire room. "Quick! Into the ship. We'll purge this planet of every-"

Shaddam stops speaking as a burst of electricity arcs away from the wall to the floor. An acrid stench arises. Shaddam already realizes what this indicates as a voice shouts out: "The shield! The outer shield is down! They-"

Shaddam cannot hear the rest of this, as the entire hutment quakes and a rumbling is heard from the ship.

_What has happened now?_

Someone shouts out "They've shot the nose off our ship!"

 _Stranded._ This thought flashes through his mind as he realizes that his plan to regroup has been stymied.

Shaddam surmises that the Fremen have probably tried to disable the other ships in his armada. A burst of chatter through his communicator confirms as much.

_They waited for the moment when the outer shield went down, then disabled our ships._

_We shall have to make our defense here._

Shaddam turns and calls for his court to retreat into the ship.

_It is unable to fly, but it will offer some protection._

Shaddam quickly signals to an officer, using the Sardaukar hand signs to give his order: stand and fight.

Shaddam raises his voice for the troopers surrounding him to hear. "We will make our stand here!"

His men respond by unsheathing their knives and swords, rushing to form a defensive position outside the open doors of the hutment.

Shaddam looks past them through a damaged portion of the fanmetal. Out on the basin, his legions are already engaged with the foe in a chaotic pell mell. The foe are robed men, wielding curved daggers with deadly skill and speed. However, it is not this that leaves Shaddam stunned. He is shocked to see a great many something's rapidly approaching across the basin.

Worms. Massive, with wide open maws filled with white curved spikes. Their rapid approach raises a great hissing sound of sand moving over their hides. Each worm carries a troop of Fremen upon it's back. Shaddam fears that they will be used to charge directly into the Imperial line, but no, the worms turn a short distance before the hutment, depositing troops there.

After a momentary stillness at the sight of those great desert beasts, his Sardaukar charge into battle with the newly arrived Fremen. They fight hard, willing to die for their Emperor, but Shaddam can see what lays ahead.

_There are too many casualities. Fremen and Sardaukar both are dying out there, but even now the enemy continue to receive more reinforcements._

As he is quickly ushered inside the ship to safety, Shaddam knowns the most likely outcome of this battle.

 _Defeat. All of my ambitions, turned to dust._ _The Red Duke was my undoing, just as I feared he would be. He has returned, a revenant in the form of his son Paul, leading this force of savages to exact vengeance upon me._

Shaddam forces himself to abandon these grim thoughts. He would only be truly defeated when he accepted defeat.

_I must be mindful of that adage of my Sardaukar: always seek to turn defeat into victory. I must look for any opportunity to change the outcome in my favor._

_I am The Padishah Emperor of the Known Universe, Shaddam Corrino IV. This will not be my end._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't include the last couple paragraphs from the chapter, since those were already told from Shaddam's POV in the book.


End file.
